


Furious Love

by writteninblood



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arkham Verse, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Divorce, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Eye Trauma, Future Fic, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Gore, My version of how Oswald got the monocle, OTP Feels, POV Oswald Cobblepot, Remarriage, Rescue Missions, Secret Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-19 21:12:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13132323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writteninblood/pseuds/writteninblood
Summary: Edward closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “If your mind is set… I… I want a divorce.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired part by duality prompt: order/chaos and part by a comment in an interview that stated Oswald and Edward are like Liz and Burton (fiery, passionate relationship, each couldn't live without the other, got married twice).

Every day is the same. Oswald gets up at precisely ten-thirty. He takes a shower, dresses, styles his hair and puts on his make-up. Then he wanders through to the connecting room he’s made into his dining room. He used to eat downstairs in the bar but the space is simply too big and lonely for him now. He eats brunch alone at the head of the table in the dimly lit room. He never enjoys it, simply eats because he must. The food seems tasteless, the texture coarse. The only gratifying part of brunch is the scalding coffee which always seems to make him feel minutely more alive. 

The only sounds are his eating and the newspaper rustling as he turns the pages. He has instructed his staff to have everything ready at a certain time every day, and to never, under any circumstances, disturb him. Oswald doesn’t want to see anyone. Most days, the pouring rain adds a melancholy soundtrack to his meal.

Next, he methodically goes over the accounts, alone in his office. He goes through various loan applications, requests for an audience, and so on. It's incredibly tedious. He often wonders if this was how Edward felt, when he was his chief of staff. After that he meticulously checks the stock and makes any orders that are needed. He used to have assistants do this for him, but he likes to do it himself now. It keeps him occupied.

In the afternoon, he attends underworld meetings, making sure he presence is still known and felt. He goes through the motions every day, like it’s any normal day, because as far as the outside world is concerned, it is. Nobody ever knew that Oswald Cobblepot and Edward Nygma were married for ten years. And now nobody will know they are divorced. It’s like nothing happened at all. 

There’s always a period between dinner and opening the club that Oswald struggles to fill. He tries to read, and tries to come up with new business strategies, but he always ends up in his bedroom, door locked, holding the only piece of Edward that he left behind. It’s one of his jackets, the fabric soft like silk, emerald green with purple lapels. It has an umbrella embroidered into the secret inside pocket, something Edward himself added. He has his suits tailor made of course, but he likes to sew on his own additions, personalising his clothing. Oswald strokes the fabric reverently, burying his nose in it, even though his smell has long since gone. It has been almost a year since their fraught lawyer mediated divorce meeting. 

Oswald carefully lays the jacket on the bed and positions himself on his side next to it. Some days he sobs, some days he just mindlessly stares at it, wondering if his heart will always be broken.

He has suffered a lot in his life, and he never thought anything could ever be worse than the loss of his mother, his father, getting shot by the man he loves, or having to say goodbye to the boy that could have become his son. Divorcing Edward has left a great gaping chasm in his heart that can never be filled by anyone else. How does one carry on _after_ experiencing ten years of love and completion? 

The strain of keeping their marriage a secret had begun to take its toll in the last few years, on Edward especially. He had always talked about having a house and a family and all the things “normal people” have. He had talked about it with increasing frequency in the last couple of years. Oswald had always assumed that Edward knew they could never have any of that and hope to keep it a secret, so he would just smile and kiss him affectionately, agreeing how nice it would be.

But of course, there came a point where Edward could not be placated with kisses and soft touches, where they couldn’t keep pretending that this wasn’t what Edward _really_ wanted. When Edward finally snapped, their fights became ones for the ages. Edward would scream that Oswald was ashamed of him, and tried to manipulate him into going public with their relationship, so they could then have all those “normal” things. Oswald would yell back that Edward was naïve if he thought the world would just let them live happily together. The end result was nearly always them falling into bed together, later whispering how sorry they were with reassuring touches for all the hurtful things they said. 

After all these rages and screaming fits, the very last fight was very anticlimactic. Oswald will never forget it; Edward’s last words to him still haunt him. 

_They’re lying in Oswald’s bed, side by side, but not touching. Things between them have been strained for quite some time now. Even physical touch doesn’t ease the disquiet they’re both experiencing anymore, try as they might. They can both sense they are never going to agree on this subject._

_“I can’t keep acting as though this is okay anymore, Oswald. I’m tired, and I feel like you’re not listening to me, and never will.”_

_Oswald sighs and sits up against the headboard. “I_ am _listening to you, Ed. But it’s just like every other time, I have no new information to give you. People still want us dead, people will still use us against each other. I still want to keep you safe. I will_ not _lose you Edward.”_

 _Ed sits up too, putting on his glasses. “But what’s the point in being safe and unhappy? Wouldn’t you rather take the risk and have a family with me? We could live_ together _, Oswald. No more sneaking in and out late at night. We could wake up together, we could eat all our meals together, I could help you run this place…and when you’re ready, we could adopt a child, and raise them together. I want to share all of that with_ you _, Oswald. I know you would be an excellent father…”_

_“NO, EDWARD! One of us has to be rational! How long do you think it would last before someone took it upon themselves to destroy everything? Can you imagine how much it would hurt to not only lose each other, but a child too?”_

_“You’re already losing me, Oswald.”_

_“What?” Oswald’s voice wavers for the first time._

_“I can’t live like this.” Edward pinches the bridge of his nose, and lays his the other hand on the bed in between them. “I’m so tired of hiding the best part of my life, always looking over my shoulder, always being careful. I’m just so exhausted. Neither of us is getting any younger, and I just want a little bit of peace. With you.”_

_Oswald simply stares at him, as if daring him to say what they’ve both known is coming. Edward seems to be waiting for something. For a last minute change of heart perhaps. He looks down at Edward’s hand on the bed, then draws his own closer to himself. He purses his lips and meets Edward’s eyes again, waiting._

_Oswald can see resignation finally take over his expression. Edward closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “If your mind is set… I… I want a divorce.”_

_Even though Oswald knew it was coming, he still feels like all the air has been sucked out of him. Like when he was sinking into the river, and he was trying to breathe, his lungs burning with the effort, but there was only the black poisonous water choking him, killing him. He feels like he did in that moment now, like he’s reaching out to Edward, but he just stands there and watches as he sinks into the abyss, the blackness claiming him forever._

_He only has one card left to play, but he already knows it’s useless. “Are you blackmailing me?”_

_Edward’s eyes widen in disbelief. “No, I’m not_ blackmailing _you Oswald. We want different things and—”_

 _Oswald finally snaps; he can’t hold himself back anymore. If this is the end, he has nothing left to lose anyway. “I want everything you just said! How can you think I don’t? After everything I’ve lost of_ course _I want a family of my own. I want you to live with me. I want to adopt a child and watch you fill their head with your stupid riddles. I want all of it.”_

_Edward’s expression softens and he leans across the bed to take Oswald’s face in his hands._

_“We can have all of that. We can protect each other, and our child. What’s the point in all this power if we can’t use it to build a fortress, keep our family safe?”_

_Tears are blurring Oswald’s vision. Why is Edward such an unfailing idealist? How can he be so ready to risk his heart like this? Oswald would rather die than risk Edward’s life, he’s proven that on more than one occasion. He pries Edward’s hands from his face, tears falling as he blinks._

_“It’s that same power that other people seek, Ed. If we build a public life together, people will simply use our love to take us down._ The man who loves nothing, has no weakness. _You taught me that.”_

_Edward looks down, ashamed. Oswald feels guilty for bringing that up. He knows Edward has changed vastly from the man who said those words. But he knows it will drive his point home._

_“I’ll have my lawyer draw up the papers and sent to you by Monday.” He turns away from Edward, trying to hold back from letting full body sobs take over. He feels strangely detached from himself, like he’s watching it all happen from afar. This version of himself wants to know what on earth he’s doing. Why is he so calmly ending the best thing that’s ever happened to him?_

_“_ Oswald! _”_

_Even though Edward was the one who brought up divorce, he knows Edward’s resolve is already crumbling. If Oswald lets him, he’ll pull Oswald back into bed with him, and they’ll curl around each other and kiss each other desperately, and go on pretending that this is enough. Because the alternative is all together more terrifying._

_“You need to leave, Ed. Otherwise we’re just going to get stuck in this loop. I won’t change my mind. The most important thing to me will always be your safety.”_

_Oswald hears Edward start to cry as he gets dressed. He stares numbly at his knees._

_He thinks Edward will go without saying another word, but he stops by the door._

_“You know, it’s funny, well it’s not, nothing about this is funny, that’s an awful figure of speech...” He trails off. Babbling was always a sign of fear in Edward. Tears sting Oswald’s eyes._

_After a short silence, Edward continues. “I always thought the most important thing to you was my happiness.” And then he’s gone._

_Oswald calls his lawyer straight away before he breaks down. He cancels everything he had planned and has his personal assistant offer Catwoman a sum of money she can’t refuse in return for running the club for a couple of days._

_Edward doesn’t contact him. Oswald, citing sickness, keeps the curtains closed, the light off, and doesn’t leave his bedroom for the entirety of the two days._

*

After the settlement, Edward disappears. There’s no trace of him, nobody talks about him, and he never appears in the papers. Oswald worries about him every single day; he knows how self-destructive Edward can be, particularly when he hallucinates.

It’s not until the divorce is finalised months later that the Riddler makes his explosive return to Gotham.

It’s as though he’s compensating for his absence and then some. There are heists, hostage situations, traps, puzzles and old fashioned thefts. There’s such a surge of them that anyone who works with anything valuable is afraid to go to work. Oswald sees the news of the Riddler’s exploits most days in the papers. He never gets further than the headlines. 

Oswald isn’t all together surprised when Commissioner Gordon comes to visit during the accounts portion of his day, one month after the Riddler’s crime wave began. He looks old and harried, and the bags under his eyes speak for themselves. Edward is making Jim’s life a living hell. At least there’s _one_ positive thing to come out of the black hole of despair that Oswald’s life has become. 

“Always so nice to see you, _Commissioner_ ,” Oswald says as Jim approaches his desk, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Social call, is it?”

Jim gives him the long-suffering look he’s become famous for.

“I wish that were the case,” Jim says, and he looks so exhausted that he might actually mean it. The fact that he’d rather be socialising with Oswald than dealing with the Riddler’s city of chaos speaks for how far past his limit Jim has been pushed.

“I’m here because of the Riddler.” Jim sighs.

Oswald leans forward in his seat, resting his chin on his hands. “I see. And why would you come to see _me_ about the Riddler?”

Jim looks momentarily confused. “You two have an, ah, _understanding_ , do you not?”

Oswald purses his lips slightly but then smiles again. “If by understanding you mean truce, then yes. No more, no less. And I have nothing to do with what he’s been up to lately. It’s none of my concern.”

“I thought you were friends? Or at least allies? The word is that you had become quite friendly again…”

Oswald jumps out of his seat. “We are _not_ friends, and we have never _been_ friends, do you understand?” He spits.

Jim’s eyebrows slant upwards in a look of confusion. “You were once. When I woke up at his apartment, and you were there, and you were singing together…”

“That was well over ten years ago! Since that time he has desecrated my father’s remains, threatened to kill me with acid, ruined my mayoral career, shot me and made numerous other attempts on my life. Do you really think we could be _friends_ again after all that?”

“This is Gotham. Stranger things have happened.”

It’s incredibly irritating how Jim seems to be simultaneously the most ignorant yet most astute person in Gotham. Oswald closes his eyes and sits back down, motioning for Jim to do the same. 

“Assuming the Riddler and I _did_ have an ‘understanding’, what exactly is it that you want me to do?”

Jim straightens out his trench coat as he sits. “I need you to stop him.”

Oswald laughs. It sounds hollow, even to his own ears. “That would be like trying to put a leash on a hurricane. It’s simply not possible. You know how he is when he gets into _that_ persona.”

“I think he would listen to you. Like you’re listening to me now. You go back a long way, you have history. You mean something to him.” 

It takes a tremendous effort to maintain his unaffected countenance. 

“I can’t help you. I haven’t heard anything from him since any of this began. I have no idea where he is, the man clearly does not want to be found. I’m afraid you’ll just have to let this run its course.”

Jim narrows his eyes and leans forward across the desk. “The deal is this, you stop him, we’ll drop the charges. If this carries on, when we finally catch him, I will personally see to it that he is locked up in Arkham for a _very_ long time.”

Oswald can’t stop himself from showing how appalled he is at the idea of Edward going back to Arkham. He wonders if he would survive another turn there. He was last there four years ago and by the time Oswald had managed to utilise a lot of secret back channels to secure his release, he was dangerously emaciated. He thinks back to how broken Edward’s spirit was, and how many nights of holding him tightly it took before he could smile again. 

Jim obviously thinks he can appeal to Oswald’s sympathies this way, given that Oswald himself knows too well what Arkham is like. 

“Good luck, Jim.” Oswald says, standing up in clear dismissal. Jim stands up too but doesn’t immediately turn around. He stares at Oswald for a few moments, and he gets the distinct feeling Jim knows more than he’s letting on. 

“On your head be it,” Jim says, before leaving, shooting him one last glance before he goes out the door. 

Oswald absently twists the ring on his finger underneath his glove as he mulls over everything that was said. He hopes Edward doesn’t push his luck, and that he’s smart enough to stay one step ahead of the GCPD, and the Bat. But in his heart he knows, that when his egomania sets in, Edward can’t stop himself. He’ll keep going until either he burns out, or he gets caught. And Oswald has a feeling he knows which will happen first.

*

Two weeks later, Oswald is having brunch, mechanically helping himself to several pastries before pouring himself a cup of coffee. He takes a sip and holds it in one hand, unfolding the paper with the other. When he sees the headline and the accompanying photograph, he almost drops the cup. The headline reads _RIDDLER FINALLY CAUGHT_ and the photograph shows a handcuffed Edward being bundled into a police car. Oswald shakily puts the cup down and coffee sloshes over the rim and onto the table cloth. 

Oswald should have intervened. He should have found Edward and told him he was headed for Arkham if he didn’t calm down. But he was afraid. He was afraid that he would have ended up begging and pleading Edward to come home with him. And he thinks Edward probably wouldn’t have listened anyway, because Oswald still doesn’t have a solution to offer Edward that will lessen their pain. The only thing either of them can do is attempt to live with it. Edward was doing what he needed to do to cope, Oswald knows that. The same way Oswald keeps to his regimental routines every day. He thinks of it like a series of tick boxes that he has to complete before he can go to sleep each night. It gives him a reason to get up every morning. 

He knows it’s too late to intervene now. Nothing he can do can stop Edward going back to Arkham. He can’t defend him, the evidence is too great, and he already thoughtlessly told Jim he hadn’t seen Edward since the crimes began, ruling him out as an alibi. Nobody will listen to what another criminal has to say anyway. 

He cancels his newspaper subscription; he knows what they will say. He doesn’t need to see the evidence of the man he loves getting locked away. He struggles with his conscience every day, debates the evils of action and inaction. Surely on some level, Edward knew this would happen, that he couldn’t go on like this and hope to evade the GCPD and the Bat forever. Edward is the only one to blame for his incarceration. Isn’t he?

As he doesn’t read the papers, and doesn’t talk to anyone beyond what’s absolutely necessary, he only has a dim idea of what’s going on. It’s not until one night at the Iceberg Lounge, when he’s making the rounds, he overhears a faceless aristocrat from the city’s elite mention Edward to a circle of equally faceless elites who are all listening intently.

“The man didn’t even make a case for himself. He pleaded guilty to _everything_. He had no attorney of his own, used the one the court assigned for him. And he was of course a young thing, just out of school, with no idea what he was doing. Defended him to the last though, apparently. I’m not sure what happened to the _Riddler_. Quite a spectacular fall from grace. What must the other rogues be saying about him?”

His shock at what he’s hearing is promptly followed by rage. He wants to scream “ _That's my husband you dare to insult_!” But of course, it isn’t. Not anymore. And even if he had been, he wouldn’t have been able to say it. 

That doesn’t stop him from removing the head of his cane and stabbing him in the heart, though.

The circle stares in horror as the man collapses to the floor, revealing the Penguin standing behind him, the bloody head of his cane in his hand, looking up at them from under his brows. They all watch him in petrified silence, and Oswald suddenly feels like he’s suffocating. He lets out an animalistic scream and they all jolt into movement, running for the exit. 

He turns around to see that everyone else in the club has stopped to stare at him. He barely restrains the urge to scream at all of them as well. “The Iceberg Lounge is closed for the rest of the night,” he declares loudly, voice like ice. “Kindly make your way out.”

He signals to his staff who are standing around the outer walls of the club. Some of them busy themselves getting rid of the body, the others begin ushering guests towards the exit, even as they linger to stare at the famous Penguin, who just showed them that all the outlandish tales they’ve been told about him are true. 

He leaves his staff to deal with closing and retires to bed. He feels tired beyond his years. He’s older now, of course, but he’s not an old man. For the first time, however, he feels like one. The loneliness he experiences as he once more retrieves Edward’s jacket from the closet and sits down on the bed, is so profound that he holds it to his face to muffle a particularly loud sob. The following silence pounds in his ears and he fervently wishes that Edward was there with him instead of in some freezing cold cell in Arkham. He misses him with every single fiber of his being. It’s agony.

He knows he won’t be able to sleep tonight unless he drinks himself unconscious. So that’s what he does. 

*

Predictably, the next morning, he feels ghastly. He slowly gets up, carefully hangs Edward’s jacket back up in the closet, and starts his daily routine. Shower, dress, hair. He feels marginally more human by the time he’s styled his hair and applied his make-up. He heads to brunch and cringes at the smell of the food. He only has eyes for the coffee; it can get rid of that god-awful taste in his mouth. 

He’s pouring himself a second cup when there’s a knock at the door. Oswald actually jumps; he’s gotten so used to his completely silent, undisturbed mornings. 

“What is it?” He asks. 

One of his assistants, Catton, pokes her head around the door, looking visibly terrified.

“There’s someone here to see you Mr. Cobblepot, sir.”

“Didn’t I leave strict instructions not to be disturbed?”

“You did, sir. But I really think you will want to see this person.”

That piques Oswald’s interest. There’s no way Catton (or indeed any of his staff) would take this risk if the person wasn’t significant. 

“Very well, send them in.”

He sips some more on his second cup of coffee, hoping it will make him feel more alert, or at least less like death warmed up.

The person who walks in is so much Edward’s likeness that for a moment, Oswald thinks it _is_ Edward. But the more he looks, the more he sees the differences. The build is a little more broad, the cheekbones not quite as prevalent, and the eyes are lighter and younger. Edward’s eyes are haunting to stare into, for all they have seen and experienced. There _is_ something familiar about him. Perhaps if he weren’t so hungover, he would have figured it out already. 

“Who are you?” 

The man reaches into his shoulder bag and pulls out one of those newfangled tablet things. He writes on the screen with a special pen and turns it around so Oswald can read it.

_Don’t you recognize me?_

Oswald gasps as it suddenly clicks into place. That mop of curly hair, the bow tie, the cardigan…he just looks like a bigger version of the Martin he sent away. Martin grins as he sees the cogs turning. 

“ _Martin_?”

Oswald stumbles out of his chair in his haste to get to him, pounding head be damned, throwing his arms around him. Martin hugs him back, and Oswald is overwhelmed and surprised by how much comfort there is to be obtained by a simple hug, and how much he needed it. 

Martin is so tall that Oswald barely comes up to his shoulder. How strange that is.

Eventually he steps back and sits back down, looking once more over Martin. The change is quite simply astounding. 

“Sit down, sit down, please, have some food! How are you? What have you been doing all these years?”

The first thing Martin does is hold up a hand to slow Oswald down. Oswald apologises, and leans back in his seat, waiting. Martin writes something and then once again turns the tablet for Oswald to read.

 _I’ve missed you. But I understand why you did what you did_. 

Oswald feels tears come to his eyes. Edward knew about Martin of course, once Oswald was cleared of his murder. When he and Edward had been married for a couple of years, he often thought about inviting Martin to come back and live with them, as a family. No doubt the thought had occurred to Edward too, but he never mentioned it. Perhaps he thought it too painful a subject for Oswald. He had already missed several years of Martin’s life by the time they were married. By the time they were arguing about their marriage being secret, Martin had already grown up. 

Martin gradually tells Oswald what his life has been like since Oswald sent him away. Given how much more he has to say, he enables an option on the tablet that makes it speak for him. It says the words as he types them, which allows him to communicate more, much faster. He tells him that thanks to Oswald, he was able to get through the rest of school without being bullied. He got into law school, and was just hired for the first time, representing one of the most notorious criminals in Gotham. Oswald knows what he’s going to say before he says it, remembering the words of the man he killed the previous evening. _A young thing, just out of school, with no idea what they were doing_. 

His boy defended his ex-husband in court. His heart is thudding crazily in his chest but Oswald tries to keep his expression neutral. 

“How do you manage to defend someone if you can’t speak?”

_It’s obviously more difficult for me, but they allow me to use ASL and an interpreter. However I think even the best attorney in the world couldn’t have saved Mr. Nygma from his fate, especially given how resigned to it he was._

Oswald closes his eyes. He doesn’t know if he can keep up the pretence. Something must be showing on his face though because Martin types, _you love him, don’t you?_

As soon as he hears the computer say those words in its tinny, monotone voice, his eyes snap open. 

“What makes you say that?”

Martin looks at him sympathetically and reaches into his pocket. He holds out his palm and upon it sits Edward’s wedding ring. Oswald clasps a hand to his mouth. 

“How-how did you get that?” Oswald whispers. 

He gestures for Oswald to take the ring so he can type. Oswald holds it in the centre of his palm, running his fingertips around its edges. It’s a simple silver band with three tiny inlaid peridot stones. Oswald’s is exactly the same but with amethyst stones. 

_He gave it to me after the last hearing. He apologized to me and said he was sorry he didn’t help at all. I think he knew who I was, but he never said. He took the ring off and told me to give it to you. He said he didn’t want it to be taken from him in Arkham._

“And you figured out that I love him just from that?”

_No. The first time I was allowed an interview with him to build our case he asked me for a piece of paper. I gave it to him and he made an origami penguin out of it. He didn’t say anything else, the entire time I spent with him. Apart from the apology at the end. I could tell he was really unhappy. I mean, most people who stand trial for crimes are. But he was almost completely despondent. And with the penguin, the ring and the apology, I pieced it all together._

Oswald doesn’t try to stop himself from openly weeping. There’s no point if Martin knows. He allows Martin to move his chair around the table, closer to him, and to put his hand over his own. 

_Do you want to tell me? My guess is that you’ve been keeping it all locked up inside. I’m here if you want to talk to me._

It all just spills out of him. About their gradual reconciliation, their marriage, their years of happiness, and how it all fell apart. _Why_ it all fell apart. How Edward went off the rails after the divorce was finalized, how Oswald himself had been coping. Martin squeezes his hand for comfort. Talking through his pain makes it minutely more bearable. He will always be so incredibly grateful that Martin came into his life. He still can’t believe he’s sitting here with him now, that he came back after all these years. 

Eventually, Martin takes his hand away, so he can type again. 

_I’ve always admired how you’re fiercely loyal and protective of those you love._

Oswald manages a small smile through his tears. 

_But I think Edward was right._

Oswald looks up, confused.

_You can’t live your life in fear of losing people. He could just as likely get hit by a car as killed by your enemies. The same applies to me, though the situation at that time was more volatile, I understand that. But we’ve missed so much time that we could have spent together. You could have been my father. But it’s not too late for you and him. You can still give him everything he wants._

In light of the case Martin is making (and he has definitely chosen the right profession), there’s not really much Oswald can say that won’t sound incredibly feeble. Every single risk Oswald has taken in his life has backfired some way, and it has made him want to lock down the good things in his life, keep them safe, no matter the cost, even if that cost is his own heart. And he selfishly decided Edward should pay that price too. 

He wants Edward to be happy. He wants it with a fierceness he’s never wanted anything. He had just been so terrified of Edward being killed, he’d smothered him with his overprotectiveness. Edward must understand that he only did it because he loves him so deeply. The thought of Edward dying is still too much to bear, but the way things are going, Edward is going to die in Arkham anyway.

He has to get him out. 

He nods to himself, set in his decision. Though he thinks his path would have always led him to Arkham; Martin just helped him get there quicker. He looks at Martin, feeling hope for the first time in years. “Will you help me?”


	2. Chapter 2

“Thank you for coming,” Oswald says, coming around his desk to stand in front of it. 

Victor Zsasz and Mr. Freeze eye each other warily. Zsasz seems particularly fascinated by Freeze’s suit. It’s not as big and bulky as it used to be, the technology he’s using now far superior. It allows him a much greater freedom of movement. He hasn’t found a cure for his temperature problem, but he’s finding ways to make enduring it easier. Oswald admires his perseverance. 

“I know we each have our differences,” Oswald starts, “but I hope you will hear my reason for doing this and consider working with me again.”

Zsasz narrows his eyes at him. Oswald specifically used the word _with_ because he remembers very well how he used to talk to Zsasz, like nothing but an inferior employee. He thinks of it with shame, along with many of the choices he made at that time when he was a cold and callous man, after Edward was taken from the ice. It didn’t sit well with him, that he couldn’t keep Edward there forever.

Oswald had been served more than his comeuppance, with a betrayal worthy of the Gotham history books. After it had been revealed that Sofia had ordered the hit on her father, rather than come back to Oswald, Zsasz had disappeared. He had heard tell of his return a few years later, but Zsasz never sought him out, or entered into any dealings which involved the Penguin. They simply coexisted in the same world, but never came into each others’ orbit. 

He’s surprised that Zsasz is here now. 

He’s frank with the two Victors. He tells them about his marriage to Edward, briefly tells them why they got divorced; talking about _that_ is still very painful. The easiest part is telling them what he plans to do now and why. He’s a natural strategist, so that comes very easily to him. And talking about his motivation is the most incredibly freeing thing; Martin being the only other person he’s ever been able to talk to about his feelings for Edward.

He expects them to look shocked or incredulous, but they’re both wearing similar expressions of bewilderment. 

“What?” Oswald asks, looking between them. Freeze and Zsasz look at each other and Oswald can see some silent communication passing between them. Finally, Zsasz nods and holds out his hand in a ‘be my guest’ gesture. Freeze huffs and turns to Oswald.

“There were rumours,” Freeze starts, “before Nygma disappeared. That the two of you were…more than friends.”

Oswald raises his eyebrows in an impatient gesture for him to continue.

“Nobody ever suspected that you were married, but people thought there might be something going on because you were seen together so often, and you worked together on so many schemes…”

Oswald thinks if Freeze could physically blush, he would.

“The most common opinion was that you had an um… secret friends with benefits arrangement.”

They all stand there in a very tense silence. It seems to drag on as Oswald processes the fact that their relationship was never the secret they thought it was. All the pain of their divorce, was it all for nothing? 

He can’t let himself get distracted with that now. He has to concentrate on getting Edward out of the hell that is Arkham Asylum.

Freeze eventually coughs. “Well I can’t speak for Zsasz, but I will help you. Love is always a worthy cause.”

Zsasz looks somewhat disgusted with the corniness of that statement. Then he steps forward and closes the distance between him and Oswald. 

“I will do this for you.” He says, deadly serious. “And when it’s finished, you and I are… clear.”

Oswald nods vigorously, feeling beyond grateful. “Clear.”

And then they go on to further discuss strategy and Oswald hears their ideas. At some point Zsasz convinces him to order a pizza, which Oswald only does because he needs to stay on his good side. The help of a merciless assassin and the other names he can bring to the table is invaluable. It’s worth his office smelling like cheap grease for the next day or so.

*

After a week of planning and carefully placed bribes, Oswald is finally tip-toeing through the ice-cold corridors of Arkham Asylum to Edward’s cell. It’s late at night, long past curfew, and the inmates are mostly sleeping, bar the odd distant scream from solitary confinement. 

Oswald can see his own breath, and he knows the temperature in the cells won’t be any different. This place is misery in its truest form. He doesn’t dare to look in the cells past their numbers; just concentrates on being as quiet as possible. 

He’s wearing a large oversized coat, one in Edward’s exact measurements, made of some of the warmest materials. It’s so long on him it almost drags along the floor. He plans to put it on him, when he finds him, along with the gloves in the pockets. 

Eventually he reaches the cell, and he holds his breath as be pushes at the bars that form the door. He silently lets out his breath when it swings forward, left open, as promised. He pushes it the rest of the way, slowly, so it doesn’t make a god-awful screech. 

He steps inside and finally, _finally_ looks at Edward. 

He’s not asleep, at least, Oswald doesn’t think so; he can’t really tell in the dim light. Edward is sitting on the far corner of his bed, knees pulled up to his chest, head leant against the wall. For such a tall man, at this moment, he looks very small. Oswald slowly approaches the bed. His own breath clouds what little he can see. 

“Ed?” he says quietly. No response. “Ed, it’s me.”

Edward seems to curl further in on himself. “Please no more. No more today.” He says in a barely there voice. 

Unfortunately, Oswald knows what he means by that. 

Edward’s been hallucinating. And it’s been taking the form of Oswald.

His chest feels tight as he begins to understand just how awful an experience this is for Edward. It’s not just a frozen misery with nothing to occupy him; he’s also being tormented by his own mind. He almost feels paralyzed by the depths of Edward’s suffering, but he forces himself to step forward. 

“Ed, it really is me. I’ve come to get you out.” He reaches out and gently puts his hand on Edward’s shoulder. Edward jumps and turns to look at him, moving slowly to the edge of the bed and reaching out a hand to verify that he’s corporeal. 

“ _Oswald?_ ”

Oswald smooths his gloved thumb over Edward’s cheek, and Edward’s hand comes up to cover Oswald’s as he stares up at him. So many emotions crash over him, but he knows he doesn’t have time to indulge or process them, at least not here.

“Stand up Edward, and put this on,” he says quietly, taking off the coat and handing it to Edward, who obediently shrugs it on, pulling it tightly around himself. “There are gloves in the pockets, put those on too.”

Edward doesn’t protest Oswald’s acting like a mother hen, just does as he’s told. Oswald holds out his hand, and Edward takes it. He leads him out of the cell and back the way he came. If Edward thinks it’s a bit rash to be walking straight out of the main entrance, he doesn’t say so. Nobody bats an eyelid as one of Gotham’s most notorious criminals escapes with another. They simply walk out of the door and into the huge front yard of the asylum. Edward’s grip on Oswald’s hand tightens, like he senses there’s something wrong. 

They haven’t taken many steps when all the flood lights come on simultaneously, making a buzzing sound as they reach full brightness. Oswald squints and when his eyes adjust he sees a line of officers from the GCPD, with Jim at the centre. They’re all heavily armed, as expected. Oswald knew that no matter how much he paid off the guards that they would tell the GCPD of his plans, such is their hatred for the Penguin. 

Edward hurriedly removes his hand from Oswald’s as they turn to face the police.

“You told me you didn’t have an understanding,” Jim says loudly so his voice carries across the yard. “And if that’s the case, how do you explain this?” 

“I never lied to you, Jim. In all the time we’ve known each other, I’ve never been anything but honest with you. But you’ve never shown me the same courtesy.” He looks to his left and right without moving his head. Everything is in place. He straightens as he addresses Jim one final time. “We don’t have an _understanding_. What we have is much more than that,” he can see in his peripheral vision Edward turning to look at him, shocked. 

Jim, however, doesn’t look especially surprised. In fact, he looks like he’d suspected this all along. If someone as dim-witted as Jim has, then surely other people must have too? It confirms what Freeze and Zsasz had told him. 

The other officers turn to look at each other, not really sure what to make of this situation. Oswald turns to Edward, who’s staring down at him, incredulous, no doubt trying to figure out Oswald’s play. 

“Will you kiss me, Edward? A kiss for luck?”

Edward’s eyes widen. The latter is their code for when something big is about to happen. It’s their way of preparing the other when they can’t explicitly warn them of danger. Normally Edward would sashay around him and say something like, “my, my, Mr. Penguin, if you wanted a kiss, all you had to do was ask.” But that was back in the days when keeping their marriage a secret was still fun and exciting. They had been quite outrageous at times with their sarcastic flirtation in front of their enemies, figuring that was less suspicious than distancing themselves completely from each other. But the mood now is entirely different. They’re not young and audacious anymore. 

For the first time that night, Edward smiles. The skin by his mouth and eyes slowly crinkles, and the warmth reaches his eyes; Oswald is incredibly relieved to see it. And then Edward leans down and presses his lips to Oswald’s. His lips are chapped and their noses are cold, but it doesn’t matter as they cling to each other, breaths spiraling in the frigid air around them, finally together again.

On cue, Oswald’s army makes itself known behind the GCPD line, headed by Zsasz and Freeze. 

“Hi guys!” Zsasz says brightly, his arms held out with the signature gun in each hand. Jim immediately yells for his team to take cover.

The yard becomes a deafening din of shouting and reverberating gunshots. Oswald and Edward part and Oswald draws Edward backward with him. They start to try to head around the line of conflict towards the gate, along the side of the building. 

Several shots hit the wall to the side of them, too close for comfort, and they huddle together in a corner, just out of the way of the main lines of fire. Oswald notices that Edward is trying to shield him. He lifts a hand to turn Edward’s head to meet his gaze. He looks him in the eyes, and Edward stares into his own. He doesn’t have the words for what he’s feeling and hopes that Edward can read it in his eyes. He swallows and tries to focus.

“Are you ready? Make for the gate. Martin is waiting.”

Edward grits his teeth and nods. 

They run, keeping low. They’re about to pass the last window when a grenade is thrown through it right in front of them, deflected from the Victor's army by one of the GCPD. Oswald knows they’re not going to be able to avoid the blast. He shouts to Freeze who turns to them and aims his freeze ray between them and the window, creating a wall of ice. Edward flinches at having Freeze’s gun aimed so close to him. Oswald’s eyes meet Jim’s for a split second before the grenade detonates. Freeze’s wall of ice forms a protective barrier for Edward but doesn’t quite make it to Oswald, who is thrown through the air by the blast. Before Oswald hits the ground, he feels something make impact with his face, making it jerk backwards. He screams in agony, the sound cut off when he hits the ground suddenly and painfully. All of the noise becomes muffled and he becomes aware of a warm wetness on his face and neck. Blood, he supposes. Wouldn’t be the first time. He realizes he can’t see properly out of his left eye and he lifts his hand to remove whatever is in the way. 

“No! Don’t touch it!” Edward says, frantic, crawling into his vision. His expression is one of horror. He tries to reach out to Edward to comfort him, assure him he’s fine, it’s just a scratch—but he can’t seem to move his hand anymore, and his vision is becoming cloudy. Excellent, he’s losing consciousness now, at the worst possible time. He tries to fixate on Edward, who’s pleading with him to stay awake, but it’s no use, he’s being dragged under. He tries to apologise to Edward, wants to urge him to get away but doesn’t know if he managed to say anything coherently. His last thought as he drifts away, is that at least Edward is safe. 

*

All Oswald sees when he wakes up is white, and he slowly realizes that he can only see it out of one eye. He touches the left-hand side of his face and he can feel bandages covering it. What happened? It’s incredibly irritating how woozy his brain is. He knows there are important things that he needs to remember, the things that led him here. But where is here?

He slowly moves his head and looks to his right-hand side and sees nothing but a pastel coloured room with sparse plain furnishings. Judging by that and how rough he feels, he must be in a hospital. Probably the private hospital that the rogues use. He moves his head slowly again to his left-hand side and the first thing he sees is black and white stripes, then a mop of brown and grey hair. _Edward_. He’s slumped half on a chair and half on Oswald’s bed, and the wave of affection Oswald experiences makes his breath catch in his throat. Edward’s hand lays protectively over his. 

And then it all comes back to him. Everything that led them to this point. 

If they are in the hospital then Edward must have managed to get away. They escaped. And Oswald is _alive_. Suddenly nothing is more important than telling Edward how wrong he’s been, how he wants to start anew, how he never wants to be apart from him again.

Sluggishly, he reaches out to Edward’s hair and threads his fingers in the strands.

“Ed,” Oswald tries to say; it comes out as a rasp, so he tries again. “Edward.”

Edward mumbles something and moves his head on his arm. Then he suddenly looks up. And as he does so, Oswald sees several plasters on his face, covering large gashes. The left side of his forehead is hideously bruised. Oswald forgets what he was going to say, only feeling shame that his rescue attempt was such a disaster.

“The best laid plans…” he mumbles. 

Edward’s bottom lip trembles as he looks at Oswald. Then he climbs up onto the bed and lays by Oswald’s side, once again taking his hand in both of his. 

“You might want to lay on my other side,” Oswald murmurs. “I can’t see a damn thing out of this one.”

For some reason this makes Edward’s breathing speed up, like he’s experiencing anxiety. A feeling of dread comes over him.

“What... what happened to my face?”

Edward leans up on an elbow so he can look down at him. He looks extremely distressed. 

“When the window exploded, a large piece of glass got wedged in your eye socket.” 

Oswald remembers Edward sounding terrified as he told him not to touch it. 

Edward swallows and continues. “Martin helped me carry you to the car and we drove you here. They took you to the operating room straight away to remove it, but they decided it was too much of a risk. They cut away as much of the excess glass as they could, but they’ve left a small piece that covers your eye. It didn’t touch your eye, though it did come very close, which is why they won’t remove it. It didn’t sever any of the muscles or nerves, so you will still be able to see. Just from now on it will always be through a broken piece of glass. Other than that there’s just bad bruising from the fall.”

Silence. Oswald tries to process this information but finds himself at a loss. Eventually, he says, “so what you’re saying is that I am now hideously disfigured.”

Edward looks away. Oswald feels a tear slip down his cheek. After everything, Edward is going to find him too grotesque to want to be with him. Oswald was so happy when he saw Edward upon waking, thinking they could finally fix things and start anew. Now he just feels angry that the universe has dealt him yet another bad hand. His lips quiver with rage. 

“I want to see it.”

“The doctor said you were supposed to rest—”

“ _Either help me to the bathroom or leave_ ,” Oswald hisses. 

Edward purses his lips and nods as he slides an arm around Oswald’s shoulders and helps his battered and bruised body limp to the en suite bathroom. 

“I’ll go in alone.” He shuts the door on a distraught looking Edward.

He takes a great shuddering breath as he sits on the toilet seat and begins to unravel the bandages. When they finally all fall to the floor, he stands up to look in the mirror over the sink. 

When he sees it, he jumps. The horror of it sends his heart into palpitations. He finds himself paralyzed by the sight of it, short of breath, unable to make a sound. 

There it is, a plain piece of glass, embedded in his face. Around it is purple bruising and bloody scabs, which contrast starkly with the pallor of his skin. His vision through the damaged eye is poor; the quality of the glass is not very good. He distantly wonders if anything can be done to improve that without removing the embedded edges. 

His face has taken on a whole new identity. He’s gone from being a small man in his late forties to a grotesque monster. 

He stands there for a while, trying to make his peace with this turn of events, and his brand new appearance. He’s seen more than his fair share of horrors over the years. He’s seen some things he will never forget in Arkham, literal Frankenstein monsters made up of different body parts. Some of the disfigurements he’s witnessed, he himself had been the cause. He’s fairly desensitized to seeing it in others, but it’s quite something else to see it on one’s own person. 

Strangely, the crime lord in him doesn’t mind the change; it will make him look more intimidating and it will definitely be an effective addition for his underworld dealings, and good for business since people love a freak show. They proved that when they came in their droves to see the Riddler on ice. 

But the young man in him, the one that’s always been quite amazed by Edward’s desire for him, that just wants Edward to find him attractive, is heartbroken. He was an odd-looking man before, but now he is completely and utterly undesirable. 

After everything he’s gone through in the past year; the pain, the loneliness and his final realization that he can’t go on like that, to have this happen to him is just so _unfair_. 

Unable to hold it in anymore, he screams at the mirror and punches it with all his might, feeling some satisfaction as the shards fall into the sink, his reflection no longer visible on the wall. Edward bursts into the bathroom, pulling him out and away from the mirror, looking down at his bloody knuckles with dismay. 

A nurse comes running into the room but Edward quickly tells her to get out. He leads Oswald back over to the bed, pulling the covers up to his middle and instructing him to wait there. 

He returns with a first aid kit, and Oswald sits still and allows Edward to clean his knuckles and bandage his hand. He wishes he hadn’t removed the bandages from his head, he hates his ugly injury being on display like this in front of Edward. 

They’re quiet for a while.

“I’m so sorry Oswald,” Edward finally says.

“What on Earth could you possibly have to be sorry about?”

Edward looks deeply ashamed. “If I hadn’t been so… _careless_ , I wouldn’t have ended up back in Arkham, and you wouldn’t have…” He gestures to Oswald’s face, but only briefly looks at it. Like he can’t bear to look. Oswald feels like his heart is breaking all over again. 

“You don’t have to stay here out of pity, Edward. I’m sure you have better things to do now you’re free. There are probably some banks in Metropolis that haven’t been robbed yet.”

Edward looks confused, and then hurt. “Are you trying to get me to leave? Because I swear, if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make this up to you...”

“No, I’m giving you an out, so you don’t have to look at me.” Oswald looks resolutely down at the sheets, trying to find the will and the strength to let Edward go again.

Understanding suddenly comes into Edward’s eyes. He lifts a hand to turn Oswald’s head to face him. 

“You think I’m repulsed by you now.” Edward states. 

Oswald inhales shakily, forcing himself to meet Edward’s eyes. “Aren’t you?”

“No, of _course_ not!” he then clambers across the bed so he’s straddling Oswald’s lap. He leans in so his mouth is mere inches away from Oswald’s. “It’s a war wound,” he says, quietly. “You got it saving me. It’s _romantic_. I am more attracted to you now than ever.” He kisses Oswald slowly, his desire evident, and Oswald, overcome, grasps at him desperately. Edward breaks away from his lips and says in his ear, “I can’t wait to get you home and show you _how much_ I like it.”

Oswald’s heart leaps for joy. “Ed,” he says as he kisses him on the lips, on the cheek, and then pulls Edward to him so he can hold him. “ _Ed_.” He winds the fingers of one hand into Edward’s hair, and he feels him smile against his neck. 

They sit there like that for a while, content to be comforted simply by each other’s physical presence for the first time in what feels like years. Eventually, Oswald starts to feel the discomfort of sitting in the same position for too long, and fatigue is creeping into the edges of his consciousness. He’s been through a lot both emotionally and physically, and the desire to rest is a powerful one. And he will rest easier with his beloved Edward by his side.

“Lay down with me.” 

Edward obeys and takes his glasses off before taking his place along Oswald’s side again, burrowing his face into his neck as Oswald wraps an arm around him. Before Oswald allows himself to sleep, Edward has to know. 

“I want to try.” Oswald says, rubbing his hand soothingly over Edward’s back. “I want to build a life with you.”

Oswald expects Edward to be happy at this revelation, but looking at his face, that’s not the case. He looks troubled and pensive. 

“You know, I never fully understood your obsession with protecting me, until today,” Edward says, his voice rumbling comfortingly through Oswald’s chest. “It was insulting to me that you seemed to think that even though I’m a villain in my own right, that I couldn’t protect myself.”

“Ed—”

“As you know, I very rarely admit to misunderstanding anything. So please let me finish.”

Oswald promptly shuts his mouth. 

“I’ve never really understood loss the way you have. When I thought you were dead, after the docks, it was hard for me, but I hadn’t understood the depths of my feelings at that time. But last night, seeing you laying there unconscious with a potentially fatal wound, I was more terrified than I have ever been in my life. And I finally understood you. The pain, the fear—I knew I would have done anything to save you, to keep you safe.”

Oswald grips Edward more tightly to him. 

“I know what a huge risk you’re taking, not wanting to hide this anymore. But now that we’re on the same page, we can take it together.”

Oswald smiles and turns to kiss Edward’s forehead, and then they lay there in silence, until they fall asleep, clutching each other tightly. 

*

Martin comes to the hospital later that day to see how Oswald is doing, and he finds Oswald and Edward curled around each other. Oswald is awakened by the sound of his footsteps, and starts hurriedly trying to untangle himself. Martin holds up a hand though and writes on his tablet.

_I don’t mind._

However, Martin has brought coffee, and the smell is simply too enticing, especially upon realizing how gross his mouth is and how dehydrated he is, to pass up. So he sits up, Edward still sleeping by his side, and takes the beverage when Martin hands it to him. 

Edward stirs then, likely woken up by the smell. He sits up too and the first thing he does is try lean in for a kiss.

“Ah, Ed, we have company.”

Still a bit groggy from a restful sleep, Edward looks around to find Martin holding out the second cup of coffee he’d brought. He fumbles around on the bedside table for his glasses, putting them on and then accepting the cup.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. He looks at Oswald like he’s not really sure what to do next. 

They sit sipping coffee in silence, uninterrupted until Martin types something on his tablet.

_Mr. Freeze and Mr. Zsasz were here earlier, while you were resting. They left those._

He gestures to the cabinet under the window. On the top sits a vase with several roses in it that appear to be frozen. Waves of mist are coming off them. Edward immediately gets off the bed and goes to investigate. He leans down close, looking at it over the rim of his glasses. 

_Don’t get too close_ , Martin cautions. _Mr. Zsasz accidentally touched it and now he has frostbite in two fingers._

“This is _fascinating_ ,” Edward says. “How on earth are they keeping themselves frozen?” Ed goes on to mutter to himself as he analyses the roses. Oswald and Martin share a look.

Edward even goes as far as to take his glasses off and poke a rose petal with one of the temples. It immediately starts to ice over. Edward looks astonished before going to the bathroom to melt the ice. 

“I’m glad that technology wasn’t used on me, I must say,” Edward mutters, putting his glasses back on. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to be frozen again? Preserve your youthful beauty?” Oswald asks, smiling.

Edward furrows his brows and gives it a moment’s thought. Martin smirks.

“No, I’m sure I’ll still be ruggedly handsome if I make it to old age,” Edward decides, sitting down beside Oswald again. “And besides, you would miss me too much. As would the whole of Gotham.”

Oswald is soothed by Edward’s lightheartedness; he seems like his old self again. 

“I don’t think Jim Gordon would. I imagine he needs to sleep for at least a week after spending over a month trying to track you down.”

“If it hadn’t been for that pesky Bat, he would never have caught me.” Edward looks to Martin and takes a few moments to collect himself. “Thank you, again, for what you did. I was impressed by your arguments and fervor in court. I’ve seen much more experienced attorneys that I’ve paid a _lot_ of money for present weaker cases than what you did. And they were up against a lot less.” 

Martin nods in acceptance of his praise and types on his tablet. _You’re welcome._

“Next time I end up there I will definitely hire you.”

“ _Next_ time?” Oswald asks, incredulously.

“I love you.” Edward says, sheepishly.

Martin sits there grinning at the both of them.

_Well I’m glad you’re both okay. I have a meeting with a potential client in an hour so I really should get going._

Oswald nods and Martin comes around to his side of the bed to give him a hug. He awkwardly looks at Edward, guessing correctly that Edward isn’t the hugging type. But Edward holds out his hand and Martin takes it, looking surprised but happily so when Edward adds his other hand before shaking Martin’s. 

Martin mouths goodbye and Oswald tells him to make sure to stay regularly in touch. He doesn’t want to lose Martin again. 

Martin gathers his things and gives them one last smile and wave before leaving the room.

“I understand,” Edward says, once Martin’s footsteps have receded. 

Oswald smiles. He’s glad that Edward has met Martin, and approves of him. Edward’s favour is hard earned. 

“And it hasn’t escaped my notice that he looks quite a bit like me.”

Oswald doesn’t know what to say to that. There’s no point in denying it; there’s no escaping the fact that Martin looks so much like Edward they could actually be related. The missed opportunity is still a dull ache in his heart; raising a child that would have felt so much more like their own because he even looked like one of them. He wonders if Edward is thinking the same thing, wonders if Edward resents him for it.

But he sees nothing in Edward’s eyes but love and understanding as he leans in to kiss Oswald. They kiss languidly, Edward pulling back to brush his lips against Oswald’s, savouring this now they’re both more awake. Oswald threads his fingers into Edward’s hair; always his favourite thing to do while kissing. He loves the way Edward hums contentedly into his mouth as Oswald massages his scalp and gently tugs at the strands. Edward responds in kind, his fingertips stroking the nape of Oswald’s neck just the way he likes, making him shiver pleasantly. They play each other like beloved sheet music, still knowing all the notes by heart, flowing into each other in perfect harmony.

*

Once Oswald is allowed to leave hospital, they don’t waste time in having Edward move into his apartment above the Iceberg Lounge. Edward keeps his (latest) apartment in the city to use as a base of operations for his schemes, since the Iceberg doesn’t really have enough space for him to practice small scale explosions, chemical reactions and the like. Oswald really doesn’t want more fire hazards than necessary in the vicinity of his club. 

They spend the first couple of weeks getting to know each other again, that is, they spend most of their time between the sheets, slowly repairing what was broken. Sometimes they just lie together, just to _be_ together, as they’d always needed a lot of reassurance from each other, and in these circumstances especially, each of them is more than happy to give it. Often they talk, eventually coming around to the subject of their time apart. It’s a painful topic for them both, but they know they need to sort through it before they can move on. 

Oswald relays what Freeze had told him about their relationship not being entirely secret. Oswald expects that Edward might be angry and see it as a lot of wasted time hiding something that people suspected all along, but he actually seems relieved. Because when they do become an official couple, people will already be somewhat prepared.

Even though they have already moved in together, they agree to take everything else slowly. They start small, with Edward openly coming and going from the Lounge via the front entrance. It does get people talking about them again; Oswald starts getting reports from his informers so he can monitor the situation. He wants to do everything right this time.

Which is why, just over two months since they came home from hospital, he decides it’s time to take the next step. 

They’ve just finished eating dinner in the room adjacent to Oswald’s bedroom (he’s kept this arrangement because Edward likes that he can just wander through in a robe and eat breakfast, rather than having to get dressed and go downstairs) and Edward is telling him animatedly about some of his latest experiments with explosives. He’s doing that thing with his hands where they’re so expressive Oswald always thinks they’re going to swipe everything off the table. The lights in the room are low, and there’s a fire going. Oswald’s elbow is on the table, his chin resting on his knuckles as he watches the light play over Edward’s features, and the reflection of it dancing in his glasses. 

“…And the fire actually glows _purple_ Oswald. Purple! It really is quite magnificent. I am certain you would love it…”

Oswald notices that next to one of Edward’s sideburns there is a small piece of soot that he obviously missed when washing for dinner. 

“Will you marry me, Edward?” 

Damn, Oswald hadn’t meant to just come out with it like that. There was meant to be a romantic lead-in, a whole speech… but it’s not the first time his heart has acted independently of his brain.

Edward immediately stops his excited tirade and stares at Oswald, his eyes wide. “What?”

“Will you marry me? Again?” Oswald reaches inside his suit jacket and pulls out the box, setting it on the table in front of Edward. “I’d get down on one knee but I’m afraid that at my age, with my knee, I may never get back up again.”

Edward sort of smirks at his joke, but Oswald can tell he’s not really listening. He’s staring at the box in wonder. 

“Well go on, open it. Maybe if it’s satisfactory you can give me your answer.” 

Edward glances at him over the rim of his glasses before opening the box. Oswald is rewarded for his choice when Edward gasps dramatically at the ring. It’s an offensively large emerald diamond on a white gold band. Edward is practically a magpie in his love of shiny things. And now they’re not hiding, nothing Oswald gives Edward will ever be understated again. 

“Of course, if that one is not to your liking, I also have this.” And he holds out the much simpler band that had been Edward’s original wedding ring. 

When Edward lays eyes on it he starts to tear up a little. A lot of memories are held within that little circle.

In a quick, fluid movement, Edward is suddenly kneeling by Oswald’s chair. Oh dear, this is the wrong way round. It’s all a bit backwards, though for their topsy-turvy relationship, he supposes it’s fitting really. He turns in his chair to face Ed. Ed shuffles closer to kneel between his legs. 

“Yes,” Edward breathes, pulling Oswald down for a kiss. “Yes.”

Oswald leans his forehead on Edward’s and smiles. His happiness isn’t wild and unbounding, the way it was the first time, when Edward had said yes. This time he feels a quiet peace and contentment, a soothing balm on his battered and bruised heart.

After a while Oswald says, “well, which one would you like?” He places the simpler band on the table beside the ring still in the box.

Edward thinks for a few moments. “I want both,” he says decisively. “I want this new ring to symbolise our new beginning, but I don’t want to forget how we got here either.”

“As you wish,” Oswald smiles. He’d had a feeling Edward would say something like that. “Give me your hand.”

Edward proffers his left hand, and first, Oswald slides the old band onto his ring finger. Then he carefully retrieves the emerald ring from the box and slides it along slowly, savouring the moment. The stone overlaps the old ring, sitting snugly above it, supported by it. How very meaningful. 

Edward stares down at his hand, completely enchanted. “They look like engagement and wedding rings.”

Well, that’s unintentionally clever, at least they won’t have to explain away having two rings. 

Oswald leans down for another kiss, as Edward’s hands run up and down his thighs. When he pulls away, Edward’s ring catches the light, and Oswald watches it, feeling a fierce wave of possession rush over him. The ring signifies Edward’s belonging to him, it ties them together. Edward is watching him closely, no doubt sensing Oswald’s change in mood. He puts his jewelled hand inside Oswald’s jacket, over his heart before slowly dragging it down over the fabric of Oswald’s waistcoat. The sight of the ring on Edward’s hand is _doing things_ to him; he wants to _own_ and _claim_ Edward. The look in Edward’s eyes changes too, and he stands up and holds out his hand to Oswald. 

Oswald is not gentle with Edward that night, and Edward’s screams are so loud that Oswald’s security staff can’t look either of them in the eye the next day. 

*

Edward takes Oswald to buy him a new ring, and Oswald ends up choosing one similar to Edward’s, except with an amethyst stone to match his old ring. Oswald tells Edward he can have the biggest, most lavish wedding he wants and initially he seems quite excited by the idea. But then he realizes the amount of time it would take to plan such an event and doesn’t want to wait that long. He doesn’t want to waste any more time, and if Oswald is honest, he doesn’t either. So, they arrange for it to be the following week at the half-derelict church outside the city where they got married the first time, this time with the Victors as their witnesses. Edward is visibly disappointed when Oswald tells him they can’t have witnesses that they can kill this time. Their first wedding night had been very bloody indeed. Oswald smiles at the memory whenever he thinks of it.

Oswald is grateful that Martin can attend at such short notice. He makes an amusing sight at the ceremony sat next to Freeze and Zsasz. Afterward, Martin comes back to the Iceberg Lounge with Oswald and Edward for dinner. It’s one of the most pleasant evenings in Oswald’s memory. 

They have the marriage announced in the Gotham Gazette after it takes place, and they even manage to take a very short honeymoon, once again leaving Catwoman in charge. They head upstate to a rustic house by the beach. The weather isn’t favourable so they spend most of the three days sitting together reading or lazing in bed. Oswald particularly enjoys watching Edward cook in just his underwear, something they’d never get to do at the Lounge. He deepens his resolve to buy them a house soon, somewhere they can do whatever they like. 

On the evening of the third day Edward reveals that he brought all the items necessary to recreate the purple fire he’d told Oswald about, and insists on giving him a display. It results in Oswald having to pay the owner a lot for the damage. 

*

They make their first public appearance two days after they return from their mini honeymoon. They sit on the balcony of the Iceberg Lounge, observing the main room below them. Edward is wearing one of his flashiest suits (and for him that’s saying something); lime green, purple lapels, purple tie. His bowler hat matches the scheme, with the bond also purple. Oswald often wonders how he manages to pull off that domino mask, but it accentuates his cheekbones and does make him look more mysterious and intimidating, which he supposes is the idea. He can’t help preening a bit at the fact this marvellous creature is his husband.

People keep glancing up at them, gossiping excitedly. Oswald knows that the majority of them didn’t come to the Iceberg tonight to socialize or dance. They came to see the married Penguin and Riddler for the first time, the new kings of Gotham. 

“ _Honestly_ ,” Edward says, affecting disdain, “don’t they have anything better to do?”

Oswald glances at him and he knows Edward is enjoying every second of this. It makes him once again think of how caged Edward had been in a secret relationship, not getting to enjoy _this_. To show off and be the centre of attention as he so craves. Well _now_ he is going to have it all; Oswald will make sure of it.

“Well I’m afraid I must be going,” Edward says, putting his hat on. “Time to prove once again that no one in this city is a match for me.”

Oswald smirks. “All right, I’ll come downstairs with you.”

The general chatter dies down the moment they start to descend to the main room, though the band is valiantly playing on, their music dark and haunting. Oswald really does feel like royalty as everyone turns to watch them. They walk into the room and stand before the crowd. Edward eyes them all haughtily. He has them all in the palm of his hand; they all stare at him enraptured by his sheer presence. Oswald comes around to stand by his side, taking his hand. 

“Do I get a goodbye kiss?” 

He hopes Edward can see this for what it is. Public displays of affection do not come naturally to him, but he wants to show Edward in every way possible that he’s never been ashamed of him, and that he doesn’t want to hide anymore. 

Edward’s responding warm smile says that he does. Oswald turns to him and waits, heart pounding.

Edward takes off his hat and leans down, and just as their lips are about to meet, he holds up his hat to cover their faces. The kiss Edward gives him is fierce and passionate and over far too soon. When Oswald recovers his faculties, he looks confusedly at the hat then at Edward. 

“Some things should stay just between us,” he smiles. He puts his hat back on with both hands in a theatrical manner. “See you later tonight, my dear.” 

“Be careful,” Oswald says as Edward sashays through the room, the crowd parting automatically for him as if he’s some sort of deity. 

Oswald watches him go fondly, and once Edward has left, the crowd turns back to him.

“Alright, my _husband_ is gone now. As you were.”

After all, the Riddler was always the star attraction of the Iceberg Lounge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out this [amazing art](http://riverance.tumblr.com/post/169740761488/the-one-and-only-king-of-gotham-i-know-that-he) of Oswald's new appearance by [Riverance](http://riverance.tumblr.com/) ♥
> 
> And also [this gorgeous piece](https://insanekingy.tumblr.com/post/179533765770/did-a-sketch-inspired-by-the-wonderful-fic-furious) by [horrorriz](https://insanekingy.tumblr.com/) ♥

**Author's Note:**

> I borrowed the glass-in-the-eye instead of a monocle idea from the Arkham verse.
> 
> This story now has a companion piece, [Take My Heart Before You Go](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16310405) detailing Edward's time in Arkham.


End file.
